


I could drink a case of you

by clytemnestras



Series: Fem Feb 2020 [5]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22928710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: I'll keep you warm and won't ask you where you've been
Relationships: Dee Reynolds/The Waitress (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia)
Series: Fem Feb 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636480
Kudos: 19





	I could drink a case of you

**Author's Note:**

> how better to mark my return to the sunny fandom than in femfeb with my signature terrible people being awful: femslash edition

  
It isn't lost on her that the first thing she really truly chooses to  _ take for herself _ is something the others have all already discarded. It's an ugly way to think about it, but then, no one ever accused Dee of being a good person.

Least of all the waitress.

*

It's easy to run into her. Easier to fall into her. 

Dee is lonely,  _ starving,  _ four beers and an ill-advised martini into the night, long having accepted Artemis has reneged on their plans and that if she had to put on a dress and wallow somewhere she has to actually pay for her drinks she might as well get her money's worth. It's a nudge-wink kind of dive bar, the kind of scuzzy that is still aesthetically pleasing enough that Dee can wear a low plunging dress and hipsters can type up thinkpieces in the corner of the darkened room. A touch of that Coyote Ugly grit and lipgloss that she had craved for Paddy's, or herself, maybe. Nothing wrong with wanting to be the main attraction.

What can she say, she never really learns.

She lets the two lesser of the gross men buy her drinks and slips off to the bathroom when they catch wind of one another, which is when she turns around into a full glass of jack and coke, right into the expanse of skin she'd so carefully moulded her cleavage into. 

"God, are all of you people stalking me now?" The waitress slurs and sways on her feet and Dee shrieks incoherently, something high-pitched and furious until a large man boredly shoves them both outside. 

Dee gathers herself up, wet, cold, a pool of decidedly un-tranquil fury swishing around her belly and tips her head to the sky, itching for a cigarette. "Look what you've done you stupid bitch! I get  _ one _ night away from those idiots to just chill out and have some fun and now I'm soaked and  _ freezing _ with no better company than your sorry ass."

When she looks back down the waitress is sat in a heap, cradling her hand in her lap, knuckles bust open and bleeding on the sidewalk.

"Holy shit did you  _ punch the bouncer _ ?"

The waitress rolls her eyes. "Yeah? I didn't like how he was touching me."

And it's a display of absolute patheticness, something Dee knows well the shape of, and yet she's still surprised to hear herself say, "For god's sake, come on, I'll clean you up back at my place." 

The cab ride is a quiet, awkward thing, but as soon as they're inside her apartment the waitress explodes back into life, babbling about how they've all fucked up her life, and this is another thing that's her fault and actually Dee's tits looked better all wet and sticky -

"Shut up, will you?" Dee soaks a face cloth in running alcohol, the only bottle the boys didn't clean out the last time they ransacked the place and the waitress hisses at her. "Don't be a baby."

"Not a baby." She raises the bandaged hand to her face and Dee is almost expecting her to literally lick her wounds, but what she does is pillow her head with her hands and close her eyes.

Dee mutters a stray  _ goddammit _ and tells her she can stay the night.

The waitress crawls into the bed behind her, mumbling about not wanting to be alone in this shitty neighborhood, and maybe it's because she likes the warmth, or because she craves the weight of another body holding her down, but Dee lets her. She curls up there, stripped to her underwear, breathing warmly against Dee's collarbones, an arm and a leg each slung over Dee's body.  _ Okay,  _ Dee thinks, turning over in the bed.  _ Okay. _

*

The woman is so  _ earnest,  _ is the thing. She wears her desperation and sadness and fury in a dark little snarl curled around her mouth far more openly than Dee's oblique sadness. Maybe what it's about is like crying out for like. Maybe it's that Dee woke up to her mouthing at her throat, still mostly asleep, fingernails digging into the flesh of Dee's arm.

Still, Dee did the honourable thing, shook the woman awake and demanded to know what the hell she was doing. So the waitress kissed her, sloppily and uncertain. 

Dee kissed back, hungry all over again. 

Which is how they ended up here: spread out on the bed, 10:37AM, on a Thursday, with the waitress' shoulders holding Dee's legs apart. And fuck, she's earnest here, too, her fingers trying to pump and curl at a consistent rhythm, too wet to always hit right but, god, when she does… Every few thrusts she hits that place inside of Dee that makes her thighs clench either side of the other woman's head, makes her chest feel like it might float all the way up to the ceiling. Her tongue is making these kittenish licks, less consistent, more careful, around where her fingers are pressing in and up and Dee threads her fingers through her short hair and pulls her up slightly, smiling down at her and then shuddering when her tongue ghosts along her clit.

And Dee - Dee's fooled around with girls before, but not this. This, naked, sweating grinding out her desire against another woman's hand, this feels like  _ fucking.  _ The waitress' fingers flex within her and she feels herself clamp down, orgasm washing through her like a flood. 

"Oh my god," she pants. "Why are you so good at that?"

The waitress twitches an eyebrow and wipes her hand and mouth on the bedsheet. "So are you gonna do me too or are you really your brother's sister?"

Dee flips them over spitefully hard. "You're lucky I don't kick your sorry ass out for making me even  _ think  _ of that bastard in my afterglow." She bites down on the waitress' collarbone and sucks hard. There's no point doing anything if she can't leave a mark.

*

It's a one time thing, a way to pass the time, a way to feel every inch of her body tethered to the earth. Dee goes into work, pals around, downs some beers, lets the insults of the day wash right over her.

She looks Charlie dead in the eye and doesn't even feel guilty about the borrowed sweat on her skin and bedsheets.

So it's fine, she's not even thinking about it. One time thing.

Until it isn't.

*

Dee is leaning on the wall of her apartment block, cried-off mascara cutting dark paths across her cheeks and her cigarette burnt to a stub between her fingers when that voice cuts through her again.

"Fun night?" The waitress is wheeling her bike along the sidewalk, it looking a little worse for wear but she's bright-eyed as anything.

"Save it," Dee hisses, stomping out the cigarette butt. "I've had enough people telling me I'm worthless tonight, I'm not in the mood for a cute little back and forth.

She leans her bike up against the stairs and presses herself in against Dee's side. "Why do you let those assholes treat you like garbage all the time?"

Dee sniffs. "Like you'd understand."

"I'm a 38 year old single alcoholic waitress who can't afford a car. Try me."

Dee presses her hands against her face, feeling the coolness of them, the way they smell of tar and nicotine, the way they shield her from the waitress looking at her too closely. "They're all I've got, okay?" 

The waitress pulls her hands away from her face and pins them to her sides, crowding her against the exposed-brick wall. "They don't have to be." She squeezes her fingers around Dee's wrist. "You want something else?"

"Ugh," Dee fidgets. "I look gross. You don't have to -"

The waitress leans forward, brushes her lip against Dee's ear. "Invite me upstairs, asshole."

Dee pushes her off then reels her in by her belt loops, crushing their mouths together too hard to be pleasant but coming close to scratching that itch inside. "Fine," she says, watching the smaller woman's chest rise and fall. "Come on up, bitch."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr! [@bohemicns](http://www.bohemicns.tumblr.com), let's chat!


End file.
